


Four Times Mannion Thought Adam and Fergus were Having a Couple Moment and One Time They Actually Were

by So_Late_Into_the_Night



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bisexual, Bisexual Male Character, Explicit Consent, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Male Character, Getting Together, I might add more tags, LGBT, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Swearing, but no worse than the show, except it is actually 4 plus 1, just please read it, lib dems, mlm, not the f slur tho, olly is tagged as ollie here because that is what ao3 has but he is in the series credits as olly so, sex references but nothing more than that, sorry about that, the teen rating is fair i think, there is a small use of a homophobic slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Late_Into_the_Night/pseuds/So_Late_Into_the_Night
Summary: Pretty self-explanatory, I think. The gay Lib Dems have inadvertently convinced everyone they have the hots for each other. Everyone but themselves.·First Adam and Fergus fic. I love them so much!
Relationships: Adam Kenyon/Fergus Williams
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38





	Four Times Mannion Thought Adam and Fergus were Having a Couple Moment and One Time They Actually Were

**One**

Fergus knew that Peter Mannion thought the junior minister at DoSAC was having a sexual affair with his special adviser. Fergus saw the way Peter definitely clocked when Adam ran a hand over Fergus’s shoulder, when Adam asked just one time too many for Fergus’s attention while Fergus was on the phone, when Adam picked frankly invisible pieces of lint off Fergus’s suit.

To be fair, Fergus could actually see Peter’s point. But Fergus wasn’t shagging Adam.

“Fergus, pay fucking attention,” Adam snapped, putting his hands on Fergus’s arms to shake him.

Fergus rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

He looked at Adam, his special adviser with thick, dark grey hair, and nodded slowly. Fergus was quite groggy, and honestly Adam could be a bit intimidating when he was pissed off at Fergus.

“Do you even know what I’ve been talking about for the past three and a half minutes?” Adam demanded.

“Schools?” Fergus offered, shrugging Adam’s hands off his arms.

“Schools,” Adam confirmed. “Specifically, the best way for us to help kids in schools have access to mental health services.”

“That’s balls though. Our bastard little fucking Tory friends will never let that through.”

“We’re going to fucking try. Sign these.”

Adam shoved a wodge of papers into Fergus’s chest. Fergus put his hand on the papers to hold them to his chest, but his hand landed on top of Adam’s.

Fergus faltered. He’d expected Adam to pull his hand away immediately, but he left it there, pressing against the papers which were pressing against Fergus’s chest. On the other side, Fergus’s hand was on Adam’s. Adam was staring into Fergus’s eyes, and good fucking lord Adam’s eyes were an intense dark blue. Like fucking periwinkle shells.

Phil barged in, and took in the scene.

“Well, meeting, now, when Padme and Anakin are finished.”

“Fuck off,” Adam snarled, actually _snarled_ , as he tore his hand off Fergus’s chest, causing Fergus to drop the papers everywhere.

“Fuck,” Fergus mumbled, chasing after the papers.

Adam tapped Fergus’s elbow, indicating to leave the papers until later, and they followed Phil to the meeting room, where Peter was waiting with Emma and Stewart.

“Found our little Lib Dems?” Emma asked, without looking up from her phone.

“Yep, got them. Kirk and Spock. They were gazing into each other’s eyes. Ready to fucking kiss, I reckon. Would’ve needed a lightsaber to cut the sexual tension. If I hadn’t walked in when I did we’d have caught Fergus up Adam’s —”

“Christ, _okay_!” Fergus said, but he didn’t miss the blush creeping up Adam’s neck. Or perhaps that was just Fergus’s brain overreacting.

He glanced at Mannion, who made a face. A face that said he knew.

There wasn’t even anything _to_ know.

**Two**

“Fuck you, you fucking… bastard… cunt!” Fergus panted.

He was _not_ shagging Adam. He had just been beaten by Adam in a game of squash. A pretty good game of squash, actually. It had been very close. They made their way back to the gym’s changing rooms to shower, and Adam smacked Fergus on the back in a friendly manner.

“Good man, Fergs. Fuck, I’m exhausted. Come on, we’ve a day at DoSAC to look forward to.”

They headed into the showers. The showers didn’t have individual cubicles, just individual shower heads along a wall. (It was stupid and Fergus despised it, but it was the only gym with a squash court anywhere near DoSAC.) Adam stripped his cotton polo top, shoes, socks, shorts, and finally boxers off with the same total lack of shyness that had always amazed Fergus. Fergus always felt a bit inadequate next to Adam when the pair of them were shirtless, because Adam had less of a belly, which Fergus knew from seeing Adam naked in the gym showers many times. He hadn’t dared to compare them _down there_.

Fergus undressed slightly awkwardly, and took the shower head two down from the one Adam was using. He wouldn’t have particularly minded the proximity to Adam that the directly adjacent one would have given him, but there was no need to make it gay.

Adam was rubbing his strong, broad shoulders with his hands, to get the water over them. He ran his hands through his hair, then shook it out with a grunt, and cracked his knuckles. Fergus coughed, looked away, and then got on with rubbing shampoo through his own, very unruly, hair. He was well used to Adam’s weird little masculinity rituals in the showers.

Fergus rinsed out his hair, washed his body, and then got out of the shower to towel his hair dry and wrap his towel around his middle. He sat on one of the shower room benches like that as he flicked through his emails on his phone. The two of them always went through to change together, and Adam always took a while longer in the shower.

The emails were boring as all fuck, so Fergus put his phone back in his bag and checked his hair in the mirror, fiddled with it.

A wet sponge hit the back of his neck.

Fergus turned around. Adam had got out of the shower and put his towel around his middle. His hair was dripping wet, though. Adam grinned.

“Sorry.”

“You threw that on fucking purpose,” Fergus said, picking it up.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Fucking _wanker_.”

“I know,” Adam agreed, leaning his weight on one side and smirking.

“Come here, then,” Fergus said.

He walked (rather than ran, because the floor was slippy) at Adam and got him in a gentle headlock from behind to shove the sponge into his face. Adam’s hands reached back and landed on either side of Fergus’s hips, his thumbs on Fergus’s love handles and his fingertips on Fergus’s towel. Fergus dropped the sponge and ruffled his hand through Adam’s still sopping wet hair, sending water spraying over his own face. Adam was laughing giddily — they both were — and moved back to slam Fergus reasonably lightly against the wall. Fergus let out a little sound, because the wall had hit his back a little harder than he had anticipated. His towel was coming a bit loose too, so he let go of Adam to adjust it.

After that, it seemed a bit weird to get Adam back in the headlock, so instead he squirmed out and shoved Adam’s back to the wall, a forearm against Adam’s chest, which was a charming combination of strong and soft; Fergus was astounded Adam didn’t constantly have girls all over him.

“You stupid bastard,” Fergus said, grinning at Adam.

“Yes,” Adam breathed, looking down at Fergus. Adam’s towel was coming loose.

Fergus hesitated.

“Fergus? _Adam_?”

“Gah!”

Fergus leapt away from Adam, spinning around to see who had spoken.

“Olly!”

Oliver Reeder was standing in the doorway, holding a gym bag and looking thoroughly wrecked. His hair was a greasy mess.

“What… what’s going on?” Olly asked, looking between them.

“We play squash a couple of times a week,” said Adam lamely. “To strengthen our working partnership.”

Olly looked unconvinced. “Does it usually end with you against a wall in the showers?”

“What?” Fergus said, remembering he was technically in charge of Adam and should probably say something. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Tennis,” said Olly, holding up a racquet.

Adam groaned and leant back against the wall.

They thought they’d got away with it, but two days later they were watching an obscene and very funny comedy sketch on Fergus’s computer and snorting into their cups of coffee, when Phil yelled across the office to Mannion that he’d just heard from Olly that Fergus had Adam against a wall in the gym showers the other day. Mannion glanced at Fergus, who grimaced.

Once again, they were all getting the wrong idea.

**Three**

They were in Fergus’s office, watching a film. _The Princess Bride_ , in fact. It was the only DVD they’d been able to find that was halfway decent. They were sitting on the sofa watching it, popcorn bags on their stomachs as they slumped down.

Technically they ought to have been working, but the latest big policy was a Tory one, so they were doing what they felt like for the afternoon.

“It’s actually not a bad film,” Fergus said.

“You kidding?” Adam said, watching Westley and Inigo’s sword fight1 intently. “It’s a fucking brilliant film. The epitome of the perfect parody, while also being good in itself. Fuck, look at them!”

Fergus grinned and nodded.

“It’s fun. I like it.”

“Good,” Adam said.

Fergus nodded again.

They kept watching. Inigo switched hands. Westley switched hands. They kept fighting. Adam was squirming with excitement beside Fergus.

“Christ, stay fucking still, will you? How much coffee have you had?”

“Sorry…” Adam mumbled, and settled down, stilling. But he did it by lifting Fergus’s arm, placing it around himself, and nestling his head down on Fergus’s shoulder. Fergus froze. Adam snuggled even closer. It occurred to Fergus that Adam wasn’t doing much to help his case against Peter’s firm belief that the DoSAC Lib Dems were fucking each other’s brains out every night.

“You okay there?” Fergus asked, trying to give Adam the hint to move before someone saw them.

“Yep. Fine,” Adam said, cuddling closer again and laying a hand flat across Fergus’s chest.

There was silence for a minute, apart from Inigo and Westley grunting their way through their swordfight, and Fergus sought for something to say.

“I saw this in the cinema when it came out,” he said. “I was twelve2.”

“I would’ve been… what, two years between us? Fourteen,” Adam said. “Took a girl to it, I think. Lara Prince. Fuck, she was well fit, the best catch at my dingy little London school. I’d had the biggest crush on her for ages. I was amazed she wanted to go on a date with me. I’d pulled her at a party two weeks earlier. Well, I say ‘pulled’... she kissed me on the cheek. Fuck, I was useless with girls back then. She liked the film, though. Kissed me properly at the bus stop afterwards.”

“I took a girl to _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ when I was sixteen,” Fergus said. “Elise Kelly. Shy, nerdy kid. She had the _coolest_ pixie cut with red streaks through it. Fancied the fuck out of me, apparently. Fuck knows why, my style when I was sixteen wasn’t the best. Elise was really nice, though. I remember she came in fishnet tights and black denim ’50s style shorts, and Doc Martens, with a button up shirt and tank top jumper, really academic looking. Don’t think I fancied her, really. Just envied her confidence. She bought me some popcorn, though. That was nice.”

“Yeah.” Adam snuggled closer, bringing his legs up onto the sofa on the other side.

Their popcorn bags had fallen onto the floor.

Fergus wanted to say something else about Elise Kelly to kill the mood, but somehow couldn’t. He didn’t even want to kill the mood. He wasn’t sure there was any mood to kill.

Adam’s hand was sliding up Fergus’s chest to rest on his neck, on the opposite side from Adam so that Adam’s arm was across Fergus’s torso. Adam’s fingertips slipped inside Fergus’s collar. Fergus was sure Adam could feel his pulse hammering.

“Jesus fuck, get a room, boys!” Emma said, standing in the doorway, brandishing a clipboard.

Fergus stood up in a panic, stepping away from Adam. Adam paused the film.

“This is a fucking room, it’s our office!” Adam snarled, looking up at her. Fergus tried not to look at the slight blush on Adam’s neck.

“It has Ferg’s name on the door,” Emma said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck off, he’s my fucking special adviser, he’s welcome to use it!” Fergus said, probably a good bit louder than was prudent. “Do you have anything to fucking say, Emma, or are you just here to make fucking allegations?”

Peter’s voice sounded from across the floor.

“Emma, do you fucking have them yet?”

“Yeah, they’re coming, just had to prise them away from each other first,” she called back.

Fergus spread his arms. “The fuck, Emma? You make it sound like I was fucking snogging him!”

“Not fucking far off,” Emma muttered, leading them across DoSAC to Peter’s office.

**Four**

“Fuck this. Want to go to the local?” Adam said, reaching for his scarf and coat.

“Yeah, sounds great. Fucking hell, Adz, I’m exhausted,” said Fergus, pulling his own coat and scarf on. “Had a hell of a night.”

“Shagging some poor chick?” Adam asked.

“Fuck no. I’m a minister, I have no time to be going out on the pull. I was up all night working on our policy for the disabled kids.”

“Oh,” said Adam. “Are we going to work on that at the pub?”

Fergus looked at Adam for a second and considered. Adam was looking really quite nice. He’d done something slightly different with his hair, and it looked as though he might possibly have put a tiny bit of eyeliner along his waterline. The thought hit Fergus in the chest like a fucking punch. He glanced again and realised he was right. And Adam smelled of some fancy spiced aftershave. Cardamom and orange. And possibly cinnamon.

Fergus wondered vaguely who Adam was making the effort for. Presumably he had a date after work and no time to make himself up between.

“We… don’t have to work on it,” Fergus said, then realised it had been about forty seconds since Adam asked. Way too long.

Adam led Fergus through the pub door with a hand on his elbow. Fergus headed for the counter, but Adam stilled him with another light touch.

“Can we… can we take a booth this time?”

“Yeah, course,” Fergus said. “Go grab us one. I’ll get drinks. What d’you want?”

“Stella Artois would be lovely,” Adam said.

“Cool. Here, take my coat and scarf.”

Fergus walked up to the bar. Behind the counter was a man maybe five years his junior, very well polished, slick black hair, and a t-shirt with little rainbows on the tits.

“Hello, darling,” said the bartender to Fergus, smiling and leaning forward on his forearms with a tiny smirk. He was biting his lip.

Fergus took a second to cotton on. “Oh, no, I can’t, I’ve got a friend over there… he’s waiting for me to order our drinks….”

The bartender stood on his tiptoes to look at Adam. “Ooh, a silver fox. Good catch.”

“He’s not… we’re not… he works for me,” Fergus said desperately. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted it shouldn’t be this gut-wrenching to have to explain, _again_ , that he and Adam weren’t a couple.

“Workplace romance, alright,” the bartender said. “That’s fair.”

“He’s not,” Fergus said, then gave up. “A Stella Artois, a J2O and a shot of vodka, please.”

The bartender fetched the drinks and rang up the total. Fergus paid him, took his shot, then brought the beer and the J2O over to the booth, where Adam was waiting.

“Christ, give me that,” said Adam, reaching for his beer. Fergus gave it to him, and he chugged half of it.

“Fuck me, Adam, what was that for?” said Fergus, sitting down opposite him with his J2O.

“Courage,” Adam said hopelessly. He looked miserable.

“Jesus,” Fergus said, and watched Adam.

Adam had taken his suit jacket off, and abandoned it on the bench on top of their coats and scarves. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he’d undone the top button of his shirt to loosen his collar. He was a bit red. His tie was fucking checked, almost tartan, in greyish tones of blue. He was chewing on his lower lip nervously and looking anywhere but at Fergus.

“Fuck, stop fucking judging me,” he snapped eventually.

“I wasn’t,” Fergus said blankly. “You okay, mate? You look a bit under the weather.”

Adam chugged the other half of his Stella Artois.

“Fergus, mate, I… fuck, I don’t know how to say this….” Adam looked around. He reached across the small table very slowly and rearranged Fergus’s hair a bit.

Fergus laughed quietly and leaned into the touch a bit. He was fond of when Adam did that.

“Do I look like less of a twat now?” he asked, grinning at Adam.

“You never look like a twat,” Adam said, earnest, far too fucking earnest for Fergus to deal with it. He and Adam were never earnest with each other.

Adam’s fingertips were still in Fergus’s fringe.

“I’m sure I do,” Fergus said, but he was looking into Adam’s eyes again and his brain wasn’t on his hair and whether it made him look like a twat.

Adam shook his head and his hand slid further down into the scruffy hair at the back of Fergus’s neck. He leant closer, presumably to speak more quietly.

“Fergus, you’re a fucking idiot, you know that,” Adam said, very quietly.

The door of the pub slammed open and someone barrelled in.

“Where the _fuck_ is Fergus Williams?” said Peter Mannion. He turned and saw Adam, still in his position of having leant in to Fergus with a hand on Fergus’s jaw. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop being fucking poofs for two seconds, come with me, you’re needed.”

Fergus saw the bartender with the rainbow tits t-shirt flinch, and signalled to him not to say anything.

Adam leant back into his seat, taking his hand away, and closing his eyes. Fergus waited for Adam to lash out, snap some insult at Peter, but Adam’s eyes stayed closed, and his hands went up, his arms crossing over his chest, to hold his shoulders.

“Coming,” Fergus said, taking his coat and scarf. “Adam?”

“I’ll catch you up,” Adam said, and Fergus realised with a shock that Adam was crying. _Crying_.

“I… okay,” Fergus said.

He walked with Mannion.

“Here’s a tip, Fergus,” said Mannion.

“Yeah?”

“Keep your fucking hands off Adam at work, it won’t go well for you. If the media find out you’re queer, let alone shagging your special adviser, it’ll be hell for all of DoSAC.”

“I’ve never had sex with Adam!” Fergus said desperately. “I’ve never even kissed him. Not while sober, anyway, I think we might’ve once while absolutely hammered… can’t remember very well….”

“Fergus, I’m not an idiot.”

**And One**

“Press conference today, Fergs,” Adam said.

Fergus stood up. “Yeah.” He paused. “Listen, Adam, are you okay? You seemed really shaken up yesterday at the pub.”

“I’m fine…” Adam said, turning away.

“He can be callous, I know, but we’re better than that, aren’t we?”

“Than what?”

“Giving him the satisfaction.”

“It’s not satisfaction, Fergs. He called me a _poof_.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a fucking homophobic slur, directed at me.”

“Yeah.”

Adam put down the stuff he was holding. He put it all on the sofa, then turned to Fergus and stood there with his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked awkward, gangly.

“Fergus, I’m not straight, can’t you see how it would affect —”

“You _what_?”

Adam looked at him. “I’m not straight. I thought you’d be able to see that being called a poof would affect me.”

“You’re not straight?”

“You thought I was _straight_?” Adam asked. He mimed gagging and puking.

“You… girls… all the time…” said Fergus. It was pathetic, he knew.

“Jesus fuck, you’re supposed to be liberal, are you unaware of the concept of swinging two ways?” Adam said. His hands were on his hips.

“But you never show interest in men!” Fergus burst out. He kept his voice down, though. He suspected Adam didn’t want all of DoSAC knowing.

“I what?” Adam looked at Fergus incredulously. “Are you really that fucking blind? That oblivious?”

“What?”

But something inside Fergus was making connections.

“I’ve been flirting… trying to see if you like me, if you like _men_ , but everything you say is so _fucking_ ambiguous, Fergs, you drive me fucking bonkers…” Adam said.

“Come here then,” Fergus said. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but it felt good and gave him a buzz, so he kept going.

Adam stepped closer.

“Fergs?”

Fergus stepped right up to Adam, put his hands on Adam’s waist inside his suit jacket.

“You can kiss me if you like.”

Adam nodded, swallowed, leaned in properly, and good _fuck_ he was wearing the spiced aftershave again.

Fergus met him halfway. He intended to be strong and masculine and dominant, but the mildly embarrassing truth was that he simply melted at Adam’s touch. He gasped when Adam’s lips touched his, and his body merged into Adam’s, pressed right up against him but not roughly.

Adam tasted of orange and coffee in equal measure, and he tasted just like he always smelled, sweet and strong and so familiar. Fergus barely restrained himself from squeaking when Adam put his hands at Fergus’s jaw, supporting his face. He broke away for a second.

“Fuck, Adam,” he said gently. “Didn’t know you could kiss like that. All your girlfriends are lucky as fuck.”

“I have no girlfriends,” Adam said. “I occasionally snog someone at a bar, but that’s it.”

“But you always say….”

“I was trying to make you jealous,” Adam mumbled.

Fergus groaned and gave Adam a small kiss on his neck. Adam fucking moaned, like someone in a Hollywood film’s sex scene.

“You horny bastard,” Fergus said.

“Fuck off,” Adam said, shoving Fergus away.

“What? I didn’t mean…. Adam, I meant it in a fond way.”

Adam was holding his arms around himself again, and bouncing on his feet nervously.

“Okay.”

Fergus nodded. “You’ve been flirting the whole time?”

Adam smiled, and his body language relaxed a bit. “Yes. You’re very easy to flirt with, because you respond to it so much, but also impossible because you don’t notice it’s happening.”

“Want another kiss?”

“Oh, please,” said Adam. “May I?”

Fergus nodded, entranced by the shy version of Adam. He’d never seen Adam like that before. Adam pushed Fergus softly back against the closed door of their office, and kissed him. It was so fucking _tender_. He wasn’t pressing hard on Fergus, he was barely even touching him, just backing him against the door by moving towards him. There was so much air. The only point of actual contact was their kiss. Then Adam opened their mouths, and there was a hint of his tongue, and Fergus was a bit ashamed to find that he whimpered. Then he got over being ashamed. He wanted Adam, and there was nothing wrong with that.

But when Adam firmly and very deliberately put a knee between Fergus’s legs, Fergus couldn’t stop himself from pushing back.

“Who’s a horny bastard now?” Adam said softly.

Fergus wondered since when Adam was soft. Adam was never soft. With anyone. Even Fergus.

“Fuck me, Adam, I want to spend the rest of my life being kissed like you kissed me just then,” Fergus said. “I felt… breathless.”

In the second it had taken him to find the word he wanted, Adam had moved a tiny bit closer. His torso was touching Fergus’s, just barely, when Fergus inhaled.

“You’re so stunning,” Adam said, looking down at Fergus’s body.

“Ugh, no I’m not. Too much belly.”

Adam’s eyes widened. “You kidding me? I’ve been fantasising after your body for ages. God….” He lowered a hand and touched Fergus’s belly gently. Something twitched inside Fergus. “Christ above, Fergs, you’re so gorgeous.”

“I’ve got love handles,” said Fergus awkwardly and stubbornly.

“I _know_ ,” Adam moaned, feeling them. “Fuck me, Fergus.”

“You fancy me even with my body like this?”

“I like your body. It’s not like I like you in spite of it or something.”

“Oh, come here. Kiss?” Fergus said, putting his hands on Adam’s neck, just under his jaw.

When Adam nodded, Fergus pulled him in, kissing him how he knew, hard and passionate and filthy. He stuck his hands up the back of Adam’s shirt, feeling the strength of the muscles there. Adam broke away and undid the top few buttons of Fergus’s shirt, until he could suck on Fergus’s neck without the mark it would leave being visible the next day.

Fergus gasped when Adam’s teeth nipped him.

He’d never expected that, never anticipated it, never thought Adam had it in him. But he put that aside in favour of experiencing the moment with as much intensity as possible, so as to store the memory away.

“Adam,” he said.

Adam stopped, and looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“Want to go back to my place? Now?”

A few hours later, Fergus had his head on Adam’s sweaty chest, the pair of them lying under a cotton duvet cover (without its duvet) in Fergus’s kingsize.

“That was something,” Adam said.

“Yeah,” said Fergus, running his fingers over the floral patterns on the white cotton that lay across Adam’s belly.

“So you like men.”

“Yeah.”

“Gay? Bi?”

“Gay, I suppose. Never really felt drawn to anyone who wasn’t a bloke.”

“Yeah, I get you.”

“You’re bi?”

“Yeah.”

“Adam, when we went to the pub yesterday and you were all dressed up and smelling nice….”

“Yeah?”

“Was that for me?”

“Yeah, I orchestrated that pub visit so I could confess to you. I was going to, before Mannion arrived.”

“You smelled fucking amazing. The memory of it had me up all last night, I’ll tell you that.”

“I keep the bottle of that stuff in my DoSAC bag, I can put some on when we’re bothered to get up.”

“Mm, fuck, please do.”

“You smell nice today.”

“I always wear the same aftershave.”

“I know. I love it. What’s it smell of?”

“Vanilla, I think.”

“I love it on you.”

“Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I love you.”

“Shit, didn’t expect that! You sure?”

“You don’t have to say the same back.”

“I know, but I reckon I do love you as well.”

“Fuck, that feels nice.”

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. A very gay coded scene with a bisexual coded character being bisexually coded. back
> 
> 2\. I went with the birth years of their actors. back


End file.
